LibeRacy & Confederacy Drabbles Dump
by RamblingRae
Summary: LibeRacy is a ship that a friend and I made up involving our OCs of the Confederacy and the Statue of Liberty. It's hella cute and dramatic, so take a peek into the world of Johnny and Libby. Pairings: LibeRacy and hints of AmeLib
1. Untitled

**Ello world of Fanfiction~! I've decided to publish these drabbles here for archive purposes and to perhaps introduce the world to the ship known as LibeRacy- a ship that a roleplay buddy and I made up with our OCs of the Confederate States of America and the Statue of Liberty on Facebook.**

 **This is the first ever drabble that I wrote with the two and I included some pieces of other roleplays as well, so credit goes where credit is due. If you need to know more about my Confederacy OC, his bio is on my profile along with a link to the page. Mmkay? Mmkay.**

 **And here goes~**

* * *

 **Untitled**

* * *

 _ **New York City, New York**_

 _ **The Apartment of Elizabeth "Libby" Bonnefoy**_

The blonde lay on her sofa, cerulean blue eyes rolled back in her head. A slender yet curved leg hung off of the edge almost lazily, a green blanket draped over her form. Eyes drifted upward, looking at the white ceiling of her living room. A bucket lay beside the sofa upon the floor due to her illness that she'd had...

For a week.

How long was the flu supposed to last? Why was she feeling fine one moment and absolutely shitty the next? The answer could perhaps... be resting in her hand. Lifting up a box, she stared straight at it, eyes narrowing.

This couldn't be it...

Could she really be...

Was it possible?

Libby exhaled sharply and sat up slowly, looking toward the bathroom, fated box still in her hands. And soon enough, she found herself getting up, walking to said bathroom.

Okay.

She was probably overreacting. She was a monument- the Statue of Liberty- for crying out loud-. She couldn't really get pregnant, right? But her curiosity killed her in the end, and she ended up taking the test.

Merde. Three minutes seemed like an eternity when you were waiting.

When the beep beep beeping of the timer on her phone sounded, she scrambled over to the test, just to see what her fate was. She nearly fainted when she saw the result- a little pink plus sign.

She was pregnant. "I... I'm pregnant...?" Libby whispered aloud, unable to believe it. She hadn't even known that it was possible. Her inner Frenchwoman was screaming- oh Dieu, what was happening?

The test lay in her hands for a few more moments as wide cerulean eyes stared.

And stared.

And stared.

Dieu, what was she going to do? She was all alone. Alfred hadn't been around lately and she understood completely. He was a busy country and all... Even if he was her fiancée.. He was married to his country first. That was part of his patriotic spirit... But she missed him. Merde, how was she going to tell him that he was going to be a father?

Before Libby knew it, her body was putting shoes on and walking out into the streets of NYC, rain pouring down.

Alright. This was happening. She was going to be mother... Something only she knew...

And it was probably going to stay that way for as long as possible. Let's be real here, she was scared as hell and probably over thinking things-

Looking up when her body paused, cerulean eyes widened slightly when they noticed where she had ended up. An apartment building. Johnny's to be specific.

Johnny was the personification of the Confederacy- the South during the American Civil War. Someone that she had known ever since she had arrived in America- since she was a new monument. They'd met by chance- Johnny had been upset, fuming in a park after visiting Alfred for something.

* * *

 ** _Flashback_**

 ** _New York City_**

 ** _October 28, 1886_**

 _Nine years after the Southern Reconstruction ended. Things in the South had been getting back to normal- yet Johnny had decided to go visit Alfred. To perhaps make things right._

 _He wasn't sure. All he knew was that he wasn't welcome anywhere anymore. His ferocity had given in- and his stubbornness. He and Alfred could never get along. Alfred's last words echoed in his head._

 _-"You're nothing. Just get out of my life, South."-_

 _..._

 _-"Just get out of my life, South."-_

 _..._

 _-"Out of my life, South."-_

 _.._

 _"Excusez moi monsieur?"_

 _(Excuse me sir?)_

 _Stormy grey-blue eyes glanced up from where they looked at his lap to meet bright cerulean. A small blonde girl, clothed in a green toga looking outfit, looked straight at him. She had a sort of concerned look on her face._

 _"Je suis perdu, pourriez-vous me aider?"_

 _(I'm lost, could you help me?)_

 _A soft sigh escaped the Confederate and he nodded, pushing himself to his feet and replied in French. "Oui, quel est votre nom?"_

 _(Yes, what's your name?)_

 _He knew French only because of the Louisiana Purchase and New Orleans._

 _The girl bit her lip softly before she replied, almost meekly. "Elizabeth Bonnefoy."_

 _A gentle smile appeared on the Confederate's face. "Jonathan Jones. Appelez-moi Johnny."_

 _(Jonathan Jones. Call me Johnny.)_

 ** _End Flashback._**

* * *

Here she was. In front of his apartment. He really only had an apartment in New York to visit her. Really, she knew that Johnny was uncomfortable with city life in general. Luckily for her, he was here this weekend. He had planned on going sightseeing with her. Before she could decide to run away, the door opened, and there the Confederate was, dressed in his usual flannel and jeans. Grey-blue eyes, clouded as the storm clouds in the sky, blinked when they saw the soaked monument there. "...Libby?"

Libby looked up at him. Her clothes clung to her body, soaked from the storm. He quickly urged her inside, surprised by her lack of words. "Libby-" Confederate eyes looked toward her as he shut the door and grabbed a towel. "...is somethin' wrong?" His voice was quiet, serious always. Libby's gaze shifted under his and she didn't say a word.

Johnny frowned, deeper than always and he gently sat her down on his sofa, sitting down on the floor across from her. "Okay. What's wrong."

She kept her gaze upon her own lap. "..n-nozhing..." She'd always been a terribly obvious liar.

Several blinks. A frown. "...huh. Well even someone with bad social skills like me kin tell that that ain't true." Hands flew to where they were crossed across his chest and a Confederate brow raised. "...What is it."

Merde- He was totally onto her and most likely wasn't going to let her leave without hearing the truth. Libby bit her lip, taking a step away from the former soldier. "...I-I'm pregnant.."

Stormy grey-blue eyes widened. "Pregnant...?" How was that even possible? "..and yer sure about this?" The Confederate's voice was quiet. Gentle, even.

The monument gave a small nod, having asked the exact same questions herself. "Oui...I-I don't know and it scares me. Is my body even able to 'andle carrying a child?" Elizabeth covered her face with a hand, now starting to doubt herself. "Alfred doesn't even know about zhis. What is 'e going to do when 'e comes back? For all 'e cares, I could 'ave went off and whored myself out!"

Oh god. Johnny had no idea how to deal with this sort of thing- but one of his only friends seemed upset, so he had to say or do something... He suddenly hugged her a bit awkwardly, really trying to help her calm down. "Hey- hey. I don't know much about... this sorta thing, but as far as I know, all this stressin' ain't good.." He breathed out soothingly. The Confederate was surprised that Alfred didn't know though. Was he the first to know? "I'm sure he'll be thrilled. He likes kids, yanno. And I'm sure that's ain't true-"

The embrace was certainly unexpected, but she didn't hesitate another moment to wrap her arms around Jonathan. He was right- While pregnancy was new to her, Libby had heard that too much stress could kill the developing fetus. "I hope so...I mean, Al 'as been wanting to try for awhile now.." The blonde went silent for a second as she pulled the male closer. "Johnny...I need you. You're zhe only one zhat knows...I 'aven't even told Elias. You said you don't know much about zhis, but please..at least until Alfred comes back..if 'e ever does."

He blinked slowly as he was pulled closer and paused upon hearing her request. "-Alright." Johnny agreed. "I'll do my best ta be there for ya and help ya out- until Alfred comes back." He promised. He was a fiercely loyal man, so this wouldn't be a problem.

Despite what most of America thought, he really was loyal. Even though he had "betrayed his country", he really was always there for his friends. Especially for Libby. She was one of his only friends. The one who had believed in him when no one else would. The person who had dragged him out of isolation, made him just a bit more confident. Yes, he was still awkward and withdrawn, but he was better.

"Merci, merci, Johnny!" She thanked him suddenly, hopping off of the couch and hugging him tightly. His face flushed at the sudden contact, her soakedness getting his clothes wet. He quickly moved away, uncomfortable with said hug. "Yeah, yeah.." He mumbled.

Moving away slightly, he stood up. "I'm goin' ta get ya some dry clothes fer ya, darlin'." And with that said, he quickly shuffled away. Hearing the endearment brought a memory back from several years ago. Something that had put a damper on their relationship for over a decade.

* * *

 ** _Flashback_**

 ** _Rural Georgia_**

 ** _1999_**

 _Walking through the forest near Jonathan's house, the Confederacy and monument walked together, alongside his dog Annie, who was sniffing around. Elizabeth had some to visit him because 'he was too lonely'. Whatever that meant._

 _Looking over at the taller man, Libby couldn't lie to herself anymore. She had fallen in love with Jonathan, the Confederate States. The same man who had fought against her fiancé. The same man who she had been advising on how to win over one's heart. Well...it worked. He had won hers. And quite easily at that._

 _The monument shook her head before taking a deep breath and going up to the Confederate. Elizabeth froze. This would ruin their friendship and cause an unhealthy factor to come into her relationship with Alfred. But it was either now or later. And with one last final thought, the blonde tugged on the arm of his uniform to get his attention. "...Johnny...I..je t'aime. Je t'aime..!"_

 _When the unexpected line escaped the monument's lips and when hands tugged on his sleeve, blue-grey eyes shifted to the blonde woman and his jaw fell open for a moment. He knew just enough French to know what that meant... And he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Ya... ya love me? Me?" He exhaled. "Are ya sure about that?"_

 _In his mind, it wasn't possible for him to be loved. But maybe... maybe Libby was different.. After all, she... she had encouraged him when no one else would- and when she did, it made his heart so warm... He had felt accepted for once in his life and he loved that feeling._

 _The Confederate shook his head lightly. What about... what about America? What about... No. He wouldn't allow himself to lose self control. He was a gentleman! And they didn't take other men's women... But.. He wanted to._

 _Libby bit her lip hearing his reply. She lowered her cerulean hues to the ground, unwilling to look at his expression. She had no reason to be unsure...she was doing as her papa had told her many times over as a little girl...following her heart. The Frenchwoman cursed herself for being so selfish, she wanted both America and the Confederacy. This...this was exactly the dilemma Francis had been in not to long ago...engaged to one man and in love with another. But he had left his fiancé for the other. She couldn't do that to Alfred! He already had so much power over her, it'd be hell to cut of their relationship._

 _The monument sighed as she attempted to look back up at him, her grip on his sleeve starting to tighten. "Oui..I do...I-I'm selfish for saying it but it's true..! I can't lie to myself or my 'eart!"_

 _Before the Confederate could stop himself, he gently turned toward her, removing her hand from his sleeve. A rough hand, calloused and worn from his work, cupped her chin, making those bright cerulean orbs of hers meet his dull, blue-grey ones. Such a look of gentleness rested upon his face, in his eyes- one that rarely showed. A single thumb stroked her cheek._

 _"I cain't let ya love me." He mumbled. "Not when ya already have someone better. Someone who's always been and always will be better. America. Alfred, not me. He's better for ya, healthier, easier." His thumb moved to where it gently brushed across her lower lip. "And no matter how I might feel, how much I would like to return yer love, it ain't right. It ain't right, darlin'." He shook his head slightly, lips pressing together in that same old frown of his._

 _Her expression seemed to fall as he put his hand on her cheek. She leaned into it before placing her own, pale, delicate hand on his. Elizabeth wanted to keep Johnny here, keep his touch, that gentle look that graced his features._

 _The statue furrowed her brows in an attempt to keep back the tears she felt start to form. "...don't say zhat. I'll always love you...I can't just forget about you. I love you because of your flaws, because you're not perfect..!" Her voice truly broke with the last statement. She knew the Confederate was right. Alfred was better for her in many ways...but things wouldn't be the same._

 _"I know...even so..what am I going to do after zhis? I can't just forget about you and 'ow I feel!" Elizabeth removed his hand from her cheek, still keeping both of hers. "I...I-I don't want to be left alone again...please mon cher.."_

 _It hurt to see her like this. It hurt to see that look upon her pretty face, it wasn't right to see such a lovely woman so upset. Johnny wanted nothing more than to see her smile- that radiant smile of hers gracing those lips. "Elizabeth..." The blond man sunk to one knee, both hands grasping one of her smaller, paler hands. He promptly buried his face in it, eyes squeezing shut for a moment._

 _"Don't look so sad, darlin'. It really doesn't suit ya..." Gentle lips pressed to her hand, lingering for a few moments before he looked up. "I won't leave ya alone... alright?" It would hurt them both for him to stay, but god, he couldn't leave her like this. If had been anyone else but her... "I really wish ya'd ferget me though..." He added in a slight mumble._

 ** _End Flashback_**

* * *

Shortly after that, Johnny had urged her back to Alfred and that had been the end of it. No calls, no talking, no visits for several years. Until this year, this fateful year, they had met again. Libby crawled onto the sofa, curling up under the towel, shivering.

She just needed to forget about that. She loved _Alfred_. America. The United States. Her fiancee. Who wasn't there... who hadn't been there.. who wasn't there with her...

Who had always been there for her? Who just promised that they would help her? Who always treated her so sweetly, so kindly? Who kept her company when no one else would?

That man. That man whose apartment she was in. Jonathan Jones. Dieu.

The monument looked up when the man walked in, clothes folded neatly in his arms. He didn't look up at her, eyes staying focused perfectly on the pile. "I ain't got any... girl clothes, but ya really need somethin' dry, so.."

Libby pushed herself to her feet, slipping her shoes off and walking over to where he stood. She placed the clothes aside and grabbed his hands. "Johnny, I-"

He covered her mouth with his larger hand and looked up, stormy blue eyes staring into cerulean hues. "Please darlin'. Don't do this. I'm just gonna... gonna take care of ya until Alfred comes back." He mumbled, knowing that look in her eyes. It was the same one that she'd had that one time.

Honestly, Johnny should have been expecting this. He hadn't exactly let her get over him before he came sort of waltzing back into her life. He was despicable and selfish and he knew it. She was his only friend, his best friend, the one he... the girl he... the monument he...

He loved.

But he couldn't have her. Never. She had Alfred, who was a lot healthier for her. Much better. He was the United States of America- a world superpower. A very powerful man. Someone who deserved her.

And Johnny he-

He didn't deserve her.

He would never deserve her.

She was beautiful and wondrous and perfect and...

Christ, he couldn't do this.

"But I don't want Alfred," Libby mumbled as he moved his hand. A surprised Confederate gaze fell upon her. Blink. Blink. Blink. "I want you, mon cher.." She sounded so desperate and even gripped the fabric of his shirt. "And I know you want me too... please, please... Let me follow my 'eart and... let yourself follow yours."

Jonathan stared straight at her, his icy cold heart melting as it always did when he was with her. God. How could he deny her again? "But... darlin', you deserve so much better..." He couldn't be so selfish.

Slender hands reached up and grabbed his chin, making him look straight down at her. "Better zhan you? Cher, zhere is no one better zhan you.. je t'aime.. je t'aime.. please... I know you love me too.. say it, please..." She begged, those eyes of her piercing through his soul.

"Je... je t'aime.." The French was heavily accented with a Southern accent, almost sounding awkward. More like a Cajun-French more than anything. But the meaning behind it was true, he really loved her. Strong Confederate arms pulled her close, clinging tightly to her. "God... Christ... I love ya so damn much, Libby. I cain't.. I cain't even express.." The embrace tightened and he exhaled. "But.. Alfred-"

"I will... I will break it off with Amerique." She cut him off, still looking into his eyes. ''e... 'e will be angry. But I cannot allow myself to keep playing zhese games.. I need you..."

The Confederate exhaled softly and nodded. "Alright darlin'... but what about yer...yer..." His hand gently rested upon her stomach. Her expression fell. She had almost forgotten..

Seeing the look on her face, Johnny moved to cup it with his hand. "If ye'll let me... I guess I kin.. help ya raise it. I ain't never thought that I would be a father figer ta a kid, but.. I wanna be there fer ya. I'll move permanently here."

Elizabeth knew that this was a major sacrifice for him. He loved his countryside. The remoteness, the seclusion, the privacy. And the city would be a great change. "Are you sure?" She had to ask. She almost couldn't allow him to. "I don't wanna be away from ya anymore." Johnny said simply. And from his tone, that was that and there was nothing that she could do to change that. A smile appeared on her face. "Okay."

Leaning down, he quickly placed a soft kiss upon her cheek and blushed, looking toward the clothes. "Ya...ya should get changed now."

The blonde woman smiled and nodded, an amused look appearing on her face. "Oui."


	2. Jealousy

**_"Jealousy is cruel as the grave: the coals thereof are coals of fire."_**

 ** _-Solomon Ibn Gabriol-_**

* * *

 **Jealousy**

* * *

It was a rainy day in the city of New York as a certain monument made her way over to a set of apartment buildings. The city was crowded as usual despite the massive downpour. Such was the life of someone who lived in the great city.

But despite this weather, nothing could seem to get this smiling woman down. Cerulean hues shone through the stormy weather only accenting the blue raincoat she wore- only the latest fashion of course. Elizabeth's French heritage showed through her need to be fashionable.

Why was Lady Liberty so happy, might you ask? Well the answer was an amazing, simply delightful one. Finally, her love had agreed to marry her. It all seemed so cliché didn't it? The Statue of Liberty and the great nation of America.

But it was so cliché that Libby was thrilled.

* * *

 _"Alright." Alfred starts brightening up more. Moving away a little he looks at her with a bright smile to his face. "Why don't we get married?" He asks excitedly. "I mean I'm the best god damn country in the world. Why not have the best God damn wife? It's difficult to get everything prepared, but we can do it!" He says matter of factly, more excited while he continues._

* * *

He was such a romantic.

And who of course was there to tell about her great engagement except her best friend for nearly a century, Jonathan Jones? Johnny was a relatively quiet man- the former Confederate States of America. He resembled her love in appearance, but differed in many ways and fashions as well- especially in the way that he carried himself. He was a much more sullen man, unlike her rather boisterous fiancé- the opposite. Yet Libby stayed his loyal and true friend- just as he remained hers. Especially when Alfred couldn't be there for her. Which was a lot. But she understood. He was busy. A powerful nation. And so, she spent most of her days with the grumpy ex-soldier.

Finding the correct apartment number, the flamboyant Frenchwoman knocked on Johnny's apartment door (the one he rented when he was out visiting New York City), using her secret knock that only she and the Confederate knew. Three shallow knocks, then one loud one. It took the dirty blond a moment to answer, but soon Libby was looking up into those familiar stormy coloured hues.

Johnny blinked several times, slowly. As he always did before greeting her. "Bonjour, Johnny~!" Libby greeted in a more excited tone than usual, and almost immediately, the Confederate could tell that there was something that she wanted to tell him. "Hi." He greeted shortly, letting her inside almost immediately.

Lady Liberty stepped in, shaking off her raincoat and umbrella from the rain, letting the Confederacy take her coat and promptly hang it up in that same southern gentlemanly fashion as always. "I have zhe best news, Johnny-" She started, spinning back toward him, golden blonde hair bouncing as she did. "Amerique and I are getting married!"

This didn't get the expected response. She had thought that Johnny would have been thrilled for her- excited even. He had always seemed to support her relationship with Alfred and had encouraged her. But instead, the faint smile that the former soldier had had faded slightly, something glinting in those faded pools of his. "Ah."

He sounded disinterested, detached. Something wasn't right. "..I'm happy fer ya." The southerner finally replied, hands slipping into his pockets. "I'm sure ya'll'll be happy together." He kept his voice strangely quieter than usual, steady, neutral. Reverted back into his shell.

But on the inside, god, he was hurt. He wouldn't let it show however. He was her best friend. He had to be happy for her- even if it hurt him in the process. Johnny knew that he had rejected her all of those years ago, and he knew that she would move on, but Christ... He wanted to be selfish and take her for his own. "I zhought zhat you would be 'appy-"

"Happy?" Johnny suddenly snapped at her, his mood taking a sharp downturn. "Oh I'm fuckin' _ecstatic_ Elizabeth. Ec-fuckin'-static! You finally have your 'Amerique'!" He spat out the name in a bitter tone, almost sounding like a bratty child.

Libby was shocked to say the least. She just stared back at the spitting man, failing to understand where this anger was coming from. "Why are you-"

"Because I _love_ you!" He blurted out in frustration, gripping his dirty blond locks. "I love ya so damn much that I cain't take it, Libby! And seeing you with _him_ \- I just-" He stopped his words, face going cold, distant.

"Get out." His words were firm, commanding, his former fierce self coming out for a moment. And before Libby could protest, he had already shoved her out of the apartment, raincoat and umbrella following. And then, he locked it with a firm click.

Now he was left alone to wallow in his own self-pity. He'd messed up. And he'd messed up bad.


	3. The Return

_**"Love is when the other person's happiness is more important than your own."  
**_

 _ **-H. Jackson Brown Jr.-**_

* * *

 **The Return**

* * *

Alfred was back. Alfred had returned. And just like that, Johnny had been pushed away, shoved into the dirt.

Libby had been ecstatic, greeting her lover with kisses and hugs, while the Confederate sat on the couch, holding baby Marc. Marc was a beautiful baby boy- with stunning eyes, much like Libby's (whose eyes reminded him of the bluest seas, rather than Alfred's which were the colour of summer skies). His hair more of Alfred's style and colour, it even had the cowlick that all Jones men had. He could honestly easily pass for Johnny's own child. He'd even been asked on the streets how old his son was. Now a ripe age of a year, Marc had already learned to speak a few words, his first word being in French, much to Libby's delight. He'd even taken to calling Johnny, 'Papa', but the Confederate tried to discourage it. He wasn't the child's father, nor would he ever be.

His true father, the sperm donor, had returned. Upon Alfred's arrival, the chipper American spotted his Southern brother on the couch, and those sky coloured eyes darkened, narrowing. But despite the look, he seemed to act friendly- for Libby's sake. And honestly, Johnny was a bit grateful for that. He didn't want to start any feuds- he was tired of fighting and wanted to live in the utmost peace.

"What's he doing here?" The superpower asked, looking from his fiancee back to his brother, then to his baby. His son. The one that he hadn't seen being born, the one that he'd missed learning to walk, talk, laugh... All of the good memories that mattered. And he had the nerve- the nerve to come back like nothing had happened. To take Libby's pure and unadulterated love- her patient, patient love as if he deserved it all along. This infuriated Johnny to no end.

"Raisin' yer son, that's what I'm doin' here." The Confederate said before he could stop himself, standing up. The toddler wrapped his arms around the former soldier's neck, as if emphasizing his point. "While you were off runnin' yer country, Libs and I were raisin' yer kid."

The couple beside the door stood there silently, Libby looking more shocked out of the two, while Alfred's jaw was clenched. "It wasn't like I wanted to-"

"Of course, ya didn't want to! But ya "had" to, right?" The southerner cut him off, gaze sharp and cold- a sort of gaze that was only reserved for the American before him. "Ya coulda called. Ya coulda sent letters. Ya coulda communicated- Skyped, whatever. But ya didn't, didya? Ya left Libby hangin' like that, just waitin' fer ya to return! Ya left her with child! Ya didn't even see yer son be born! _Yer_ son! D'ya even know his name? I _know_ that fer a fact that ya don't!"

"Johnny, s'il vous plait, zhat's enough-" Libby tried to interject, only to be cut off by Johnny giving her a sort of look. He had more that he needed to say. Looking between the two men, the female sighed, moving to grab her son from the Confederate's arms. "Come on, mon fils, let us leave zhe men alone zhen," She mumbled to the toddler, who whined and reached for the Confederate. "Papa!"

"Allez avec votre maman," Johnny told the child in heavily accented French, kissing the head of soft blond hair before he moved to face his former enemy. Once the woman and child were out of the room, Alfred raised a brow. "Papa?" The American questioned, making the Confederate sigh. "He insists on callin' me that. Perhaps if ya were here, he'd be callin' _you_ that." Johnny replied pointedly.

Alfred stuck his hands in his pocket. "Look, I know that I haven't been the best fiance, or dad-"

"You can say that again," Johnny muttered, earning himself a slight look from the other.

"But all that matters is that I'm here now. And you're no longer needed." Alfred continued, sky blues narrowing as they started into a fainter, paler grey-blue. "I appreciate you sticking with Libby during her pregnancy and not leaving her alone, but I'm here now. Move aside, South."

These words seemed to strike the Confederate hard. If his face represented a clock, he would have just struck the hour. Of course. Now that the Golden boy was there, he wasn't needed anymore. After all, he'd only promised Libby that he'd stick around until Alfred returned... but... he didn't want to leave. Over the past year, he'd come to lo... He couldn't finish that thought. He wouldn't allow himself to.

"...yer right." He mumbled, breathlessly, arms crossing slightly. Alfred would be a much better influence on the kid anyway, if he stuck around. Marc and Libby would be happier. Marc, Libby, and Alfred could be a family. The perfect family. There was no room for Johnny anywhere, was there? There never was. "Right. I'll just get outta yer way then."

Who was Johnny kidding? Why had he actually thought that he could live with Libby and Marc forever? To continue to be happy with them? To belong? As if. He could never compare to Captain America over there.

Moving to grab his coat and wallet, he pulled the heavy coat on, moving toward the door, stopping with his hand on the doorknob. "North. Always the lucky one, eh?" He didn't look back, afraid that he'd actually start to cry. "Take care of them, ya lucky Yank. Don't ever leave 'em again, cos ya've got a damn good woman and kid in there... Love 'em. They deserve only the best, so ya'd better prove that yer the best." He gripped the doorknob tightly. It was clear that he loved them- more than anything and even without seeing his face, anyone could tell that this would be the hardest thing that he ever had to do. "Tell Libs and Marc that I said good-bye." And with that said, he was gone, off into the cold, dark night.

Moments later, Elizabeth walked back in with a sleeping Marc in her arms. "Mon amour? Where did Johnny go?" She asked, concerned. It was snowing rather heavily outside...

Alfred shrugged nonchalantly. "I guess he just had somewhere better to be."


	4. Flirting

**This was a little prompt based off of these texts:**

 **-Wait, did you just flirt with me?**

 **-Have been for the past year but thanks for noticing.**

 **I thought that this would be a fun little thing to do with LibeRacy, and I wasn't wrong. Especially with the Gakuen AU.**

 **Gakuen LibeRacy is amazing, honestly.**

* * *

 _ **"Flirting is funny. It's awkward and weird."**_

 _ **-Hannah Simone-**_

* * *

 **Flirting**

* * *

Libby sat in her Psychology class, completely bored. Her best friend jad skipped that day for whatever reason, so it had left her with no one to chat with while their teacher droned on and on about something that she had no interest in. Her best friend, Johnny, was a quiet individual, and also a fairly oblivious one as well.

How oblivious might you ask?

Libby had been flirting with him for the past year. A whole year of her dropping hints and he'd never had a clue. None. Whatsoever. It was pretty frustrating.

Slipping her phone out of her pocket, she sighed. She hadn't even gotten a text from the guy. He was like a ghost. The nerve of him. She ought to go to his house after school to give him a piece of her mind...

Her phone vibrated, signaling that she'd gotten a text.

"Dieu, speak of zhe devil and 'e shall appear," Libby mumbled, opening the text, cerulean blues skimming over it.

[[Johnny]]: Heya, whatcha doin' Libs?

{{Libby}}: Nothing.

[[Johnny]]: Nothin'?

{{Libby}}: Nothing. Just in class. Where are you, mon ami?

[[Johnny]]: Er, had to skip. Alfred dragged me to a concert earlier. I got this t-shirt, wanna see?

{{Libby}}: Sure~ ;3

Libby waited for the text, finally receiving a photo message after a minute or two. The photo sent showed was a selfie that showed a rather grumpy looking Johnny wearing a dark Green Day t-shirt alongside a overly ecstatic Alfred, who wore a red version of it.

[[Johnny]]: Kinda sucked that Al had to get the same one, but I still like it. Hbu?

{{Libby}}: It's cool. Perhaps I could talk you out of it~?

[[Johnny]]: I ain't wearin' it now tho-

Libby sighed exasperatedly. Another failed attempt at flirting. There was probably no chance that she'd ever get him to notice that she-

Another text.

[[Johnny]]: …

[[Johnny]]: Wait a sec-

[[Johnny]]: Did ya just-

[[Johnny]]: flirt with me?

Dieu! Did she finally get through Johnny's thick skull? A delighted grin appeared on the blonde's face as she replied, giggling to herself.

{{Libby}}: I have been for the past year. Merci for noticing.

[[Johnny]]: ...oh. Shit.

The French girl couldn't help but laugh to herself. Wow. It really had taken him for forever to notice.

{{Libby}}: So can I take your and your thick skull out sometime? Mm~?

[[Johnny]]: …

[[Johnny]]: Tomorrow morning. Breakfast. IHop.

Cheering aloud, Libby hopped out of her seat, doing a very obvious and happy dance, singing to herself. "Ohonhon~! I 'ave a daaaate~ I 'ave a dateee~"

At the front of the class, the teacher cleared his throat, making the French student stop her celebration, only to laugh a bit sheepishly. "Pardon, monsieur." And with that said, she plopped back into her seat, twirling a piece of blonde hair on her finger, grinning widely.

She couldn't wait for their date.


	5. Rules Are Made To Be Broken

**_"It took me quite a long time to develop a voice, and now that I have it, I am not going to be silent."_**

 ** _—Madeleine Albright_**

* * *

 **Rules Are Made to Be Broken**

* * *

Samantha was never one for life as a lady in the South. She couldn't stand the restriction of it all. So many rules, rules, rules. Stand up straight, remember to smile politely, and never, ever touch anyone of the opposite sex. Keep your skirts full, your hair perfect- tie your corset tight. Carry your smelling salts. Make everyone like you. Achieve perfection. Be perfect.

She understood that she simply wasn't perfect, and she never would be, despite the expectations. She was a representation of the newly formed Confederate States of America. A beautiful girl, physically nineteen years old (as most new wannabe nations, she had grown relatively quickly), Samantha was petite, small, and delicate looking. Faded blonde hair fell to her waist in delicate ringlets, and blue-grey eyes were intense and always distant looking. Because of her almost-nation-status, she was expected to be a proper lady.

It was just a fact of life, much to her dismay.

Instead of heading to dinner parties like a proper lady would, the Confederate girl would much rather be outside, rolling around in the dirt with her wolf pup, Sorren. Sorren was her best friend and the only one she was able to talk to- besides her brother Jonathan, but he was away in Richmond, preparing for a rebellion against the United States. Several states had seceded from the Union forming the Confederate States of America, and it was only a matter of time before war broke out.

When the time came, Samantha intended to join the war. She wanted to enlist to fight for her nation, her home, her South. Their South. She'd much rather be defending her home rather than sitting behind, having tea parties and such wish wash as that. She didn't want to be that little helpless little girl that she'd read about in novels- no. She wanted to be the heroine.

A fighter.

Someone who takes action rather than waiting for someone to save her.

And so, the day came. A letter arrived in the mail, and the short blonde girl ran to open it, almost immediately scurrying outside to the backyard so that she could read it in private. Sitting near a tree, she sat down on the ground and tore open the sealed envelope, looking at the parchment hidden inside.

It read:

 _Dearest Samantha,_

 _The time has come for war. Those Yankees have gone too far as to impose upon our rights. We take back Fort Sumter on the 12_ _th_ _. Pray that the Lord will watch over us and that he will be on our side. I will miss you dearly. You'll be safe at home._

 _Regards,_

 _J. S. Jones_

 _The Confederate States of America_

 _Richmond, VA_

Of course, Samantha was outraged at reading this. 'Safe at home'?! No. She didn't want that. She was going to go fight for her land, for her people, for their rights and the Southern way of life. She had to.

And so, that night, she snuck into her brother's room, finding his spare uniform. Using her sewing skills, she adjusted it to her size, fitting into the boots using lots of extra socks. Then, as a final touch, she found a small knife and cut her hair into a short and shaggy cut, just to where it was far past her shoulders. It looked like her brother's hair, just a much lighter shade. For extra measure, she folded a blanket and stuffed it in her chest, making it look flatter and more masculine. Once she was dressed, she headed toward a mirror, looking at herself.

She looked like a soldier.

A soft sigh passed over her lips as she stood up tall, puffing her chest out. She could do this. She would do this. All she had to do was head to Richmond to enlist.

And so, in the dead of the night, she headed into the barn, intending to grab her horse. Hearing slight whining, the girl looked down to see Sorren there, the small wolf looking slightly confused. She smiled and lifted him up, putting him in her satchel.

"Come on, Sorren. We have a war to fight." And with that said, she rode off into the night, heading toward the Confederate capital. She was going to fight for what she believed in- whether her brother liked it or not.


	6. A Soldier's Coming Home

_**"If you love someone more than anything, then distance only matters to the mind, not to the heart."**_

 ** _—Unknown_**

* * *

 **A Soldier's Coming Home**

* * *

Jonathan Jones entered the army as soon as he reached the age of eighteen. It was February 6th, 1940. Two days after his birthday.

When his sister, Sam found out, well, she almost immediately told him how stupid he was, and couldn't believe it. Although, she said that she should have known. Johnny knew that he wasn't the smartest man. Nor was he the most skilled, but he wanted to provide for his sister, who had yet to get married. She was the only family he had- and working in a local restaurant wouldn't cut it- especially since she wanted to go to college. And so, Johnny did what he had to do.

Even he could tell that the United States entering the war in Europe and the Pacific was quite possible. And although most of the country wanted to stay out of what was becoming the second world war, he knew better. They would most likely enter the war. That meant that he would probably have to fight- and he wasn't sure how he felt at the time. Afraid? Not really. He wasn't afraid to die. Then again, Johnny had stopped fearing things years before. He always had to be brave.

He was drafted to a basic training camp in Waco, TX, a week or so later. Training was hard, but he pushed through it, just as he did most things. In fact, he excelled, and even became well-respected amongst his comrades and brothers- whom he became very close to after a month or so after he finished. By this time, it was September. The Italians were invading Egypt.

Uneasiness grew amongst the American people, and he remembered calling Sam the week previous- and she'd asked him if he thought that war was inevitable. He said that it was.

And Johnny was right. A little over a year later- December 7, 1941, the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. It was a hard time for any American, and the next day, the United States was at war with Japan. Then three days later- they were at war with Germany as well. Johnny himself was put onto the European front- fighting alongside British troops. Only a week into battle, he was injured, and sent home to hopefully recover.

Those weeks at home were happy. Sam hugged him tightly when he came home, and fussed over him until he was nursed back to health. He healed up in a month or so, only keeping in touch with the war through the radio and local newspapers. He knew that he would have to go back soon. He'd have to go back in battle. And then the signal came.

It was a cold evening in February, 1941, when he was told that he had a day to prepare to come back and finish fighting this war. And so, that last day, Johnny packed up and went to walk around his old home town.

Upon wandering around, he found himself in an older looking cafe, sitting down by a table, just watching the people walk by. Mostly women, of course, since most of the men were off fighting in the war. Hearing someone clear their throat, Johnny looked up to see a pretty blonde woman with a small bow in her hair. Sky blue eyes. Lips that smiled. She had a waitress' uniform on, signaling that she was indeed there to take his order. "Allô," She greeted, a hint of French accent slipping off of her tongue. She must have been an immigrant. "May I take your order, monsieur?" She asked after a moment.

Johnny paused for a moment, just replying that he wanted some coffee- no sugar, just black. And after she took his order, she scurried off, only to come back moments later with the cup. Thanking her politely, he moved to take a sip, only looking up when she turned away. He coughed a bit. "Hey... I know this is probably a strange request, but d'ya mind sittin' down with me?"

Turning back toward him, the waitress gave him a smile. "Well, I cannot right now," She informed him, moving to laugh slightly. Her laugh was strangely endearing. "But I get off in an hour- so, if you are willing to wait, monsieur, zhen I can come and sit with you?" And Johnny just nodded in response. "Alright. I can wait."

A smile. "It is settled zhen." She hummed happily as she spun around, only to look back with a wink. "Elizabeth." She introduced herself, only to make him cough a bit. "Uh- Johnny." And once the introductions were over with, the Frenchwoman was gone.

They met up in an hour, just as Elizabeth had said. She grabbed his arm and tugged him forward, completely determined on leading him somewhere they could talk privately. And so, they ended up sitting on a pier near the ocean. And they started to talk to each other, just getting to know one another. After a while, Johnny laid on his back, back against the wood of the old pier.

"I bet ya have a boyfriend, Elizabeth, but I don't care.. I wanna ask ya somethin'." A pause. "I ain't got anyone 'sides my sister to send a letter ta. Mind if I send one back here t'you?" He asked, hands threading through the dog tags hanging around his neck. "Oui. It would be my pleasure." Came her response.

And that was when the letters started. The letters came from many places- from Britain, from bases in several other countries. In each one, Johnny spoke of his experiences, of his heart, of his childhood, and Elizabeth would respond in full, answering his letters with clearly meaningful ones. They got to know each other through their letters and slowly but surely, they fell in love. The writing continued on for years into the war, and they spoke in sweet words, hoping that one day the war would end and that they would be reunited. Johnny had found a purpose in life. He had someone to come home to. He had to come home to start his life- his life with Elizabeth. But that wasn't meant to be.

His letters stopped in 1944. Elizabeth read over his last letter every single day that she could, clinging to it. Whenever her family saw her, they would scoff. She was too young to be agonizing over a soldier at war. Too young to have her heart broken like this. But of course, she paid no mind to the comments or the gossip.

* * *

June 12th, 1944. Elizabeth sat down in a chair on her front porch, sky blue eyes skimming over the letter again, just reading the slightly sloppy, country boy type handwriting.

 _June 5th, 1944_

 _Eliza,_

 _I'm glad to hear that you've started a job in the factories as a riveter. Good for you. Remember to be careful- however. I don't wanna hear that you died in a factory accident. Be safe, as always._

 _I'm sorry this letter is short. I ain't got much time. We're planning an invasion on the coast of France to hopefully gain some leverage on the Axis. I won't be able to write for a while. Just stay safe until then._

 _I'll see you soon._

 _Love,_

 _Johnny_

Ahem. Looking up, Elizabeth saw a man standing there, a piece of paper folded up in his hands. It couldn't be. Eyes shifting from the telegram and then back to the man, she stood up, exhaling gently as she took it, slowly opening the paper. Reading over the words, eyes widened as she stared at the words. "No." She whispered aloud, vision slowly becoming blurry from the tears. According to the paper, Jonathan Jones had died on June 6, 1944. The day of the D-Day invasion.

Her heart shattered into a million little pieces. He wasn't coming home. They weren't going to get married nor would they have kids or the life that they'd both dreamed of. Dreams smashed. Hopes tarnished.

Elizabeth couldn't take it.


	7. A Sister's Love

_**"Brother and sister, together as friends, ready to face whatever life sends. Joy and laughter or tears and strife, holding hands tightly as we dance through life."**_

 ** _—_** _ **Suzie Huitt**_

* * *

 **A Sister's Love**

* * *

She missed her brother. Sam missed her older brother. What was left of him now was a shell, really. She missed pre-war Johnny. The one who was charismatic and good with people. The one who loved deeply, grinned often, laughed loudly. The one who flirted with women endlessly, but would never truly be promiscuous because that wasn't what southern gentlemen did. The one who was stubborn and would never stop until he won. The one who was brimming with confidence and light. The one who _lived_. Whoever came home from the war- that wasn't him. Not the same him, anyway.

She missed the days when he would come and visit her and just beam in her direction. He'd take her out for walks. Tease her a little. Play pranks on her. Sure, she found them to be annoyances at the time, but after a while, she would grow fond of what he would do next. She missed his letters that he would write whenever he went on long journeys. They would always be so well written, so well thought of. Except that last one. She remembered his last letter so clearly. It had been so... empty. So void of hope. It had been short. Two sentences.

'Lee surrendered. The Confederacy has fallen.'

Two sentences that would change their lives forever.

When Johnny had come home weeks after that, he was a shell of a man. He hardly spoke, seldom laughed, and began to isolate himself. That was what happened when a country was ceasing to be. Sam could see him unraveling slowly as he wandered around their plantation home.

Reconstruction would be brutal on them both, but she was always strong. She had to be when Johnny wasn't.

Once Reconstruction was over, Samantha knew that they had to get away. And so, she suggested that they moved from South Carolina- somewhere else. Somewhere quiet. And so, they packed their bags and headed into isolation. Built themselves homes. Sam's by an open field, surrounded by wild flowers. Johnny's more isolated- deep in the forest, hardly navigable, the cabin only found by those who knew the area.

1886\. Sam wasn't sure what happened that year. All she knew was that when Johnny came back from a trip to the state of New York, he was different. Not happy, but different. Less bitter, in a way. Sam later learned that that was when he had met Elizabeth herself.

Elizabeth was a good person. She thought, anyway. As the monument wormed her way into their lives, she slowly saw Johnny's clouded eyes becoming alive again. He'd smile occasionally, or just chuckle- even if it was a sort of half-chuckle at times. Elizabeth became his best friend- despite the fact that she was dating his mortal enemy. Sam was fairly certain that she knew that Johnny was in love with the statue before he even knew himself.

The day that Elizabeth told Johnny about her engagement was the hardest. Sam had never seen him cry that much. And the worst part was his silence shortly afterwards. Oh Jesus, the _silence_.

He was internalizing and internalizing, letting it all consume him. And then, she saw him push his feelings away. Pushed them aside. All for her happiness. He allowed Alfred and Elizabeth to be together.

And then, Alfred abandoned her. It was a hard time for the two- she could tell. Johnny was hardly ever home and got an apartment in New York, leaving Sam home with Annie. He'd send letters, updating her on how they were doing, etc. She found out that Elizabeth was pregnant through a letter.

Everything was through letters. And then, Marc was born. Johnny claimed to be the father at the birth, and Sam knew that he wished that he really was. But he wasn't and she knew that that killed him.

But being busy with Marc and Elizabeth was good for him. Marc seemed to be the light of his life, and he treated him almost like a father would indeed treat his child. In a way, he was more of a father than Alfred would be.

Much to Sam's delight, Elizabeth soon gave up on Alfred, allowing Johnny his chance. And after some convincing, he took it and for once, allowed himself to be happy, because he deserved it.

She was more than pleased to hear that they were together. Sam had wanted this all along. Elizabeth and Marc made her brother happy. They made him smile, made him laugh, and filled the emptiness in his heart.

Maybe, just maybe, this is the start of a new Johnny. One that's a little broken, sure, but is healing. Slowly but surely. One that is loving, one that is a bit self-conscious, but rightfully so. One that's sarcastic and a total grump, but a lovable one. One that loves unconditionally, one that's sacrificing, one that's brave.

A beloved lover, father, and older brother.

Now that he was healing, perhaps- perhaps it was her turn too. She didn't need to watch over him anymore.

Life was finally good for Jonathan Jones.

Now it was her turn for some happiness.


End file.
